


all we do is ride

by wvlfqveen



Series: table for 8, motorcycle for 2 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, M/M, Non-Binary Malia, Werewolves, derek is kind of an asshole but a lovable asshole, everyone is Gay TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6717220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wvlfqveen/pseuds/wvlfqveen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles scowled, but it didn’t feel quite as strong as before. “I hate surprises. I won’t stop bugging you about till Friday. It’s only Monday.”</p><p>Derek’s smirk turned into a small smile. Stiles’ heart did a weird little dance in his chest. “I’m counting on it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all we do is ride

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo a few weeks ago i wrote a biker au for scisaac and it blew up rly quickly. to celebrate, i decided to comply to a few requests i got and write a sterek thing, set in the same universe. u can read the scisaac thing first if you'd like but u can read this by itself too, i think.
> 
> thank you for your support and love! it means the world to me!
> 
> p.s. i've never written sterek before so i hope i didnt fuck it up completely. enjoy xoxo

“Lahey, stop being disgusting with your boyfriend and come help me with these orders,” Stiles called out to the boy, grinning hugely at the scowl he sent him.

It had been two weeks since Isaac and Scott had started dating, and Stiles had never seen either of them happier. It was actually all kinds of unnerving, especially when he caught himself smiling at them or thinking how cute they were. Like, really now.

Isaac skated to him after kissing Scott goodbye, like they would be separated by like, an ocean, and not a couple of tables, and stuck his tongue out.

“You’re just jealous,” Isaac singsonged, grabbing one of the trays from a smirking Kira. Stiles followed him, scowling at his back and then smiling down at the customers quickly. They skated back to the kitchen partition.

“I’m not,” Stiles denied. “You two are truly gross.”

“So would we still be gross if you could stick your tongue down Der-”

Stiles put a hand over his mouth quickly, glancing at the table. Derek was looking at them questioningly, a scowl on his face.

Well there was almost always a scowl on his face, but this one was particularly directed at Isaac’s outburst.

“Shut up,” he hissed. Isaac didn’t know about the whole furry, howl-at-the-moon business yet, but Stiles was hyper-aware of it at all times. He could practically hear Erica already cackling at him.

Isaac rolled his eyes at him, leaning an elbow on the counter. “I honestly don’t understand either of you,” Isaac said, looking at both him and Kira. “Why don’t you just make a move?”

That was a great question, really. Stiles was sure Derek knew about his eternal attraction towards him (God knew why; he couldn’t even remember if Derek had ever really smiled at him) but he had never mentioned it on the rare occasion when he would interact with Stiles.

“Because when I make a move, it’s usually me running away, dude,” Stiles said. Isaac snorted.

“What about you?,” he asked Kira, raising an eyebrow. Kira blinked at him with her big eyes.

“I, uh, I’ve never really dated anyone before,” she said, glancing over at the table. She knew about the whole werewolf thing, too, as she was a werefox herself, or kitsune to be more accurate, so she was careful with her words when the group was around “and I only just recently realized I’m bisexual, so…”

Isaac shrugged. “Fair enough, but still, what do you have to lose?”

“Would you have made the first move if Scott hadn’t?” Stiles asked, eager to stop thinking about his own incompetence in the dating field. Isaac snorted.

“Hell no. You saw me that day. I was ready to run after that slipping incident.”

Stiles laughed. “Oh man, that was priceless.” Isaac glared at him.

“Shut your mouth, I’m better now,” he said defensively, then skated away to reunite with his boyfriend, as if demonstrating his improved skating.

Stiles sighed, and went to get money from his customers.

* * *

“Hey dude, we’re leaving. Want a ride home?” Scott said later, coming up to where Stiles was wiping down a table, helmet already in hand. Stiles had already known they were leaving; Isaac sucked at sneaking to the back room to get his stuff.

“Sorry buddy,” Stiles said, standing up straight to clap his best friend on the shoulder. “Gotta stay to close tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Scott nodded, patted him on the shoulder and turned on his heel to follow the rest of them. Stiles watched Derek’s annoyingly wide shoulders disappear in his leather jacket and then out the door. He went back to wiping the table furiously.

“Hey, uh, so my  shift’s done-”

“Isaac,” Stiles interrupted, turning around to throw the washcloth at him “you’ve been doing this for two weeks now. I get it. Go ride Scott’s...motorcycle into the sunset.”

Isaac threw the rag back at him. “You’re disgusting.”

Stiles snorted at his back as he stepped out of the diner. “But I’m right,” he muttered, now to an empty diner, save for Kira in the kitchens.

* * *

 

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Kira called from the door a little later. Stiles poked his head out from the back room and waved back.

“Goodnight, see ya,” he said, finally putting on his work playlist. He hummed as Fall Out Boy blared from the speakers, mentally bunching up his sleeves and starting the closing process.

“Jesus fuck!,” he yelled as he stepped out of the back room, his hand flying up to clutch his chest in surprise. Derek was sitting at the table, legs crossed at the ankles. He merely raised his eyebrows at Stiles’ reaction.

“I came to give you a ride home. There’s been an outburst of crime around the area lately.”

It was Stiles’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “My guy. This is San Francisco.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I meant my kind of crime.”

Stiles frowned. “Oh. I haven’t heard anything.”

“I’m shocked,” Derek said. Stiles scowled.

“Har, har, jerk,” he said. Then he bit his lip as a thought occurred to him. “Uhm, I’m not supposed to have people in here while I close.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “There’s no camera in here so...I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Stiles snorted and went on with his job, trying to ignore him and his annoying piercing eyes. He had to physically bite his lip to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth several times, but he managed it.

Until it was time to put the chairs up.

“How about you stop brooding silently and start putting those annoyingly big muscles to use, huh?,” he asked, patting the chair he had just lifted and placed upside down on the table. He immediately regretted his words as Derek got up and took off his jacket. Had Stiles ever mentioned how much he hated tight t-shirts?

“Annoyingly big muscles?,” Derek echoed, raising his eyebrows. Stiles scowled.

“Shut up,” he muttered “just help me with these so we can be out of here fast.”

Derek rolled his eyes but got to work anyway.

* * *

“Christ. I forgot how huge your motorcycle is,” Stiles said later when he was outside the diner, staring at Derek’s motorcycle in horror.

It was a Harley Davidson, like Scott’s, but this one was humongous and completely black and also downright terrifying, especially when it was Derek standing beside it. Stiles gulped.

Derek, the asshole, rolled his eyes. “You’re safer with me on the bike than you are standing there ogling at it.”

Stiles crossed his arms defensively. “I can’t get on that. I can’t. You know why? Because a) I value my life and b) it's like...three times my size.”

Derek sighed. “Do you want me to lift you?”

Stiles’ cheeks reddened at the thought. “No, I’ll walk.Goodnight,” he said, and turned to walk down the street. He nearly screamed when Derek appeared in front of him out of nowhere.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Get on the bike,” he said, nodding towards it.

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though,” he said, patting his chest. He pulled his hand back hurriedly.

Derek huffed. “I’m not letting you walk, Stiles. Get on the bike.”

Stiles scowled. “Fine,” he said, then stomped toward it. He stopped by the backseat. “Uh, I can’t actually get on this without like, dying.”

Derek rolled his eyes and climbed on the bike as if he had been born doing it. “Hold onto my shoulders and swing your leg over.”

Stiles did as he was told, pointedly ignoring the feeling of Derek’s shoulders under his palms, and settled down in the seat hesitantly. Derek handed him the other helmet. Stiles muttered his thanks and put it on. He clutched on Derek unconsciously when the bike rolled to life.

“Hold my waist,” Derek yelled over the engine, and revved it. Stiles put his arms around Derek’s waist and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Promise me you won’t go too fast?,” he said, knowing Derek could hear him even at this volume.

Derek shrugged and started driving.

* * *

They stopped in front of Stiles’ building in no time at all. He groaned.

“I hate you. I told you to not go too fast,” Stiles grumbled, his eyes still closed. He could practically feel Derek rolling his eyes.

“I’m a biker, not a soccer mom,” he said. His voice sounded clearer. He had probably taken his helmet off. Stiles snorted weakly.

“Wow, you just made a joke. I need to tell Scott immediately.”

“Yeah? You might need to climb off the bike first,” Derek said, as if that would be an easy thing to do.

“I can’t,” Stiles whined. “My limbs are locked from like, shock.”

He felt Derek’s back starting to shake. Stiles raised his head and opened his eyes with some difficulty.

Derek was _laughing_ at him.

“Stop laughing at me,” he said, pulling his own helmet off. Derek’s head was hanging forward and he was squeezing his lips so no sound could come out. If it wasn’t such a cute image, Stiles would be feeling more resentful.

Derek inhaled through his nose and raised his head with a sigh. He turned his head sideways so his mouth was inches away from Stiles.

“Stiles?,” he whispered.

Stiles’ heart sped up. “Uh, yeah?”

“You have five seconds to get off this bike before I throw you off it,” Derek said. Stiles shut his nearly gaping mouth forcefully and glared at him.

“Alright, alright, you caveman. I’m off,” he said, trying to swing off the bike and nearly falling face first onto the pavement. Derek caught him around the waist at the last minute.

Stiles stood up straight in the circle of Derek’s arms and scowled at him. “I didn’t need your help.”

Derek merely raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he deadpanned. He unwound his arms from around Stiles’ waist and stepped back a bit. Stiles mourned the loss for a second.

“You know,” Stiles started, crossing his arms “I _know_ you are not the cynical asshole you want to appear to be.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles was really starting to hate those eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, raising his own eyebrows. Derek's eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know me.”

“But I want to,” Stiles muttered then blinked.

Uh oh.

Derek tilted his head. “What?”

“What?,” Stiles repeated, throat dry. God, he had done it again. He’d put his foot in his mouth for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

“Stiles. What did you say?”

Stiles scowled to mask his chagrin. “You heard me.”

Derek stared at him for a moment then looked away. “Did you mean it?”

“Uh, I-,” Stiles stammered. Derek looked back at him. Stiles suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What if I did?,” Stiles asked. Derek’s fingers pushed his chin up gently.

“I’d be okay with that,” Derek said, voice low. Stiles swallowed. Derek’s hand settled on the side of his jaw.

“You-you would?,” Stiles asked, licking his lips. His mouth went dry when Derek’s eyes followed the movement.

Derek tilted his head slightly. His eyes looked huge and dark under the light of the street lamps. “Yes,” he said. His voice was unfairly steady. Stiles could feel his hands shake a bit.

He inhaled sharply. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Stiles?”

He licked his lips again. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you goodnight?,” Derek asked. Stiles blinked at him for a moment, then nodded.

Stiles hated being and sounding cheesy, but from the moment Derek’s lips touched his own, he knew he was completely fucked. His lips were so warm and soft, and he was much gentler than Stiles had expected. He sighed and let the hand not holding the helmet travel up Derek’s face and clutch at his hair. Derek breathed in sharply and tilted his head. Stiles deepened the kiss, licking into Derek’s mouth. He truly appreciated the quiet moan Derek gave at that.

They broke apart after a while, both breathing hard. Derek’s hair stood up where Stiles had been clutching it, and he knew he himself looked as wrecked as he felt.

“How soon do you want to start getting to know me?,” Derek asked. His voice was hoarse. Stiles shivered.

“Very,” he said. Derek took a shaky breath and rolled his shoulders, trying to compose himself.

“How does 6 o’clock, Friday, sound?,” he asked.

“Great,” Stiles said truthfully. “Where are we going?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly back to himself again. He smirked. “You’ll see.”

Stiles scowled, but it didn’t feel quite as strong as before. “I hate surprises. I won’t stop bugging you about till Friday. It’s only Monday.”

Derek’s smirk turned into a small smile. Stiles’ heart did a weird little dance in his chest. “I’m counting on it.” He got back on the bike and took the helmet from him. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight,” he said, a little dazed, and watched him speed away with a tiny flutter of hope in his chest.

“That was so, so, gay,” a voice said from behind him. Stiles turned.

Scott was standing at the entrance of Stiles’ building, smiling. Stiles scowled and walked up to him, pushing past him with unnecessary force to get into the building.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Scott crossed his arms defensively. “I was on my way out,” he said. “You know I can’t help it.”

Stiles snorted and pressed the elevator button. The door opened right away. He got in and turned to his friend. He was still standing by the entrance, smiling goofily.

“I’m happy for you, dude,” he said. Stiles sighed and smiled.

“Thanks, buddy. I’m not gonna find Isaac naked upstairs, am I?”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you have to ruin a perfectly good moment?”

“It’s who I am,” he said, as he let the door close. “Goodnight, Scotty! Wait!," he said, throwing his arm forward to stop the door from closing. Scott turned back to face him.

"What is it?"

"There are no supernatural crimes around the area at all, are there?"

Scott grinned. "Goodnight, Stiles," he said, and walked out of the building.

The elevator door closed. He finally let himself grin unabashedly.

Yeah. It had been a good night.


End file.
